


Together

by debategeeketc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Boys In Love, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Violence, Highschool AU, Homophobia, I sold my soul for this, M/M, No Beta, Smut, So much angst, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural AU - Freeform, THIS IS SO CUTE, What Have I Done, hella angst, homophobia trigger warning, homophobic families, implied rape, no details though, please be careful babes, poor babies, this might kill me, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debategeeketc/pseuds/debategeeketc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel just wants to graduate and go to college.  His plan of leaving with nothing to bring him back goes wrong when a boy with sandy hair and green eyes saunters into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to tag the triggers I can think of, but comment if you want me to tag anything else. Comments/Kudos are always appreciated, and give me lots of motivation. I'll try to update a few times a week, but no guarantees.
> 
> kisses, r

"Good morning class," their teacher, Mr. Singer says.

It is Monday morning, and no one wants to be in first hour physics.

"Today we're going to begin our unit on gravitation physics. I know some of you struggle to grasp these simple concepts, but you're going to have to do your best. We have to complete this unit in the next month so you can begin SAT prep."

Castiel Novak is bored. He knows that it won't take long for him to understand gravitational physics, so he looks out the window. It is a cool fall day, the leaves still bright. The only place he wants to be is outside, taking photos, and he begins to wonder whether he can get away with ditching his next few classes. He has English next, and art after that; the art teacher won't care if he isn't there. He’s startled by a tap on the shoulder, his friend Anna looking at him through her bangs.

"Mr. Singer says we need to pair up. He has some lab about the size of the universe he wants us to do. I have the instructions, so don't worry."  
Anna knew that Castiel had a hard time staying focused in class, smart as he was.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Come on."

She takes his hand, leading him to a lab table in the corner of the room. She takes out a piece of paper, drawing a line through the middle. On one end she draws a semi-circle, labelling it as the sun. Taking the ruler, she carefully measured out the distances, labelling the orbits of Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. Labelling the distance in miles, she finishes off the diagram with their names, printed neatly in the upper corner. It takes them less than twenty minutes to finish, only a third of the hour long class and the rest of the class is still working.

"I'll turn this in, then I'll see if we can go outside for the rest of class."

"Thanks," Castiel says quietly, tucking his papers into his binder and cleaning up their lab table.

When Anna comes back, she has a smile on her face.

"Mr. Singer says we are free to go and that he'll see us on Wednesday. I'll see you in English."

"See you in English," Castiel mumbles, walking out of the classroom.

The air is cool, but Castiel is comfortable in his coat. He walks to the picnic table he and Anna claimed their freshman year, taking his camera from his bag. Adjusting the ISO on his camera, Castiel notices a leaf on the table and raises the camera to his face, focusing on the veins of the leaf. He's happy with how the photo turns out, but he needs to finish a fall series for art so he stands up, walking to the cluster of trees on the edge of campus.

He stays outside for hours, missing English, lunch, and part of art. He wanders into the art room with only 15 minutes left, nodding to the teacher as he moves to the back corner of the room, sitting at an empty table. There are nearly 30 new photos on his camera, but Castiel doesn't love any of them. They'll work, especially since the series is due at the end of the week. All Castiel wants to do is go home and sleep, but he has to make it through the end of the day. He has a test in Calc, and he doesn't want to miss it. The bell rings, and Castiel walks out of art, dipping his head as he walks to his locker. He reaches the math room before anyone else, and takes a seat in the back of the classroom.

The rest of the students trickle in, filling all the seats in the classroom but one. Just as the bell rings, someone slides into the seat next to Castiel, his books sliding off the desk onto the floor. Castiel leans over to pick up his books.

"Thanks," the other boy mutters, taking the books from Castiel.

"No problem," Castiel replies softly.

Before they can say anything else, their teacher Ms. Harvelle enters the room. She smiles at the class, sitting at her desk.

"I know you all have studied hard for this test, so I expect high scores. You are all capable of doing well."

She stands up, walking around the room as she hands out the tests. Pulling out his pen, Castiel looks down at the test. The first page looks easy enough, and he starts working. When he finishes the last problem, Castiel walks to the front of the room, handing in his test and earning a smile from Ms. Harvelle. Returning to his desk he sits down, taking out his camera. He looks through the photos he took earlier, trying to decide on seven of his favorites. He likes the picture of the leaf he found on the table, loving the way the slats of the table are blurred in the background. There's another he likes, a shot looking up at the sky through the leaves, the bright blue sky in stark contrast to the golden leaves. The rest of the photos are fine, but nothing special. He decides on three more, one of a couple laying on the grass under a tree, another of two leaves frozen in time as they fall to the ground, and one of a bare tree silhouetted against the sky.

Castiel slides his camera back into his bag, not wanting to run down the battery. He takes out a book, reading for the rest of the class period. He is so engrossed in his book that he doesn't notice that the bell rings until someone taps his shoulder, gesturing to the emptying classroom. Castiel nods in thanks, packing his things away before he exits the room. Castiel finds his way through the front doors of the school. He pulls his coat tightly around him, the dry leaves crunching under his feet. For a Monday afternoon, there aren't many people out. Castiel walks in silence, letting his thoughts consume him. He'd rather not go home, but he doesn't have anywhere else to go. He would go to the library, but he just went Sunday and he has no reason to go again. It takes just under twenty minutes for Castiel to get home, walking quickly because of the brisk air. Castiel is thankful that the house is quiet as he twists his key in the lock, closing the door behind him and climbing the stairs to his room. Castiel's room is clean, but cluttered. His bed alone takes up half the room, along with a small desk and dresser. There's some extra floor space, but all the walls are covered in photos. Castiel sits at his bed, taking out his phone to text Anna and see what he missed in English.

Hey. Sorry I wasn't in English. What did we do?

Anna replies in seconds, and Castiel can hear her voice as he read.

Just reading. We finished the third and fourth chapters of The Hobbit, but I know you already have, so you're fine.  
-kisses, A

Castiel smiles, glad he has a friend like Anna.

Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow in Government.

Her reply comes instantly.

See ya.  
-kisses, A

Castiel sets his phone on the desk, scooping his cat, Stella, into his arms.

"Hello," he says, kissing the top of her head, "how are you?"

The cat purrs, rubbing her head into his chin. Castiel grins, happy to have someone who appreciates him. He sets her on his lap, pulling out his laptop as she makes herself comfortable. He pulls up his email, checking quickly for any news from colleges. Seeing none, he closes his browser, opening the folder that contains his fall photo series. Plugging in the memory card from his camera, he copies over the photos he took today. Opening the picture of the leaf, he starts editing it. He ups the contrast slightly and blurs out the background, making the leaf stand out even more than it originally did on the chrome table. After half an hour, he's happy with the final product and saves it to his final folder, opening the next picture.

Castiel spends the next few hours editing, only closing his computer when he hears his mom come inside. He sighs, knowing he'll have to survive another awkward family dinner. When Castiel started taking art, his father laughed. When Castiel came out, his father screamed and hit him. When Castiel got an F on a test, his father swore he'd kick him out the next time it happened.

"Castiel," his mother calls, "Dinner in ten."

"Okay Mom," Castiel calls down the stairs.

He sits at his desk, contemplating the photos on his wall. He hangs his favorites over his desk, switching them out regularly. Now, it was a collection of photos he'd taken over the summer, mostly at the park. A small child sits on the end of the slide, grinning. A girl and a boy sit on a blanket, a picnic spread between them. A German Shepherd catches a ball, jumping high above the ground. There are also some from their class trip to New York City. A man hurries down the street, his dark suit matching his black umbrella. A couple walks down the street, smiling happily. A dog-walker gets pulled along the street by a dozen dogs. That time in New York had been wonderful, a glimpse of what it would be like to be free.

Castiel looks down at his watch, realizing he has to go to dinner if he doesn't want to get yelled at. He walks down the stairs, brushing his hand over the railing that desperately needs dusted. As he enters the dining room he hears his father's rough voice, drowning out his mother's softer one. They both go silent when he enters the room, so he knows they were talking about him.  
"Hello Castiel," his father says formally, and his mother frowns.

"Castiel, why weren't you in English today?"

"I was outside for my art class," Castiel's father snorts, "finishing an assignment. I told Mr. Shurley to tell the Mrs. Tran that that's where I was, but I guess he forgot. I'm sorry," Castiel was lying, Mr. Shurley had no idea where Castiel was, but the art teacher was forgetful enough to make it believable.

"Alright, Castiel, I just want to make sure that you're doing well in school."

His father's tone was kind enough, but Castiel heard the threat behind his words: if Castiel didn't do well in school, he wouldn't have a home.

"I'm fine Dad. I know what we did, and I'll make it up."

"Good."

His mother sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit, "Come. Eat."

For twenty minutes, Castiel sits through the awkward silence of dinner, answering questions only as his mom asks them. Finally, he asks to be excused, and when his mother nods he practically runs from the table, quickly clearing his dishes before going back to his room. The night is cold, and Stella is curled on his bed, just below the pillow. Castiel glances at his watch, noting that it's nearly ten. He has to get to school early to apologize to Mrs. Tran for being gone, so he'll need to get up around six. All Castiel wants to do is sleep for a few days, but he doesn't want to risk the wrath of his father.

Castiel takes off his sweater, messing up his dark hair even more. Laying his hoodie over the back of his desk chair he sighs, pulling on a soft tee shirt. He slides off his jeans and boxers, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. Castiel walks to the bathroom, running a hand through his hair in the mirror. He looks like shit, but he knows that he always does. His hair is messy, but it always is. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever, but he doesn’t care. His eyes look dark and sad, but there isn't anything he can do about that.

Castiel bushes his teeth, quickly splashing cold water over his face. The water is cold, and the shock of it wakes him up a little bit. It feels good, the cold reminds him that he's alive, that he's still breathing. The faint sound of his parents arguing floats up the stairs. The sounds are faint enough that he can ignore them, and he does. Castiel walks back to his room, grabbing his phone off the desk as he walks by. He lays down, pulling the thick comforter around him, the warmth comforting him.

His eyes go to the small box on the top shelf on his closet, his fingers twitching to take the box down. All he wants is to feel the relief, but it's only been a few days. He resists the urge, his fingers digging into his palms. He needs a distraction, so he opens his phone. Tapping in the passcode he's been using since his mom found his phone and started going through it, he opens YouTube, checking for new videos. Seeing none, he switches to Tumblr, scrolling mindless through the posts until he falls asleep.

Castiel is woken by the sound of his alarm. Rolling over, he sees that it's just past six, so he gets up. The floor is cold under Castiel's feet, and he walks quickly to the bathroom. Spinning the knobs in the shower, it finally begins to spit out hot water. He slides off his boxers, pulling the tee shirt over his head. Stepping under the water, Castiel sighs in pleasure. The warmth of the water wards of the cool of fall, and Castiel quickly washes his hair. He knows that the warm water won't last long, a side effect of his father's inability to pay the bills. Just as he's turning the water off, he feels it go cold, and he's shivering again as he dries off. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Castiel goes back to his room. He's looking through his dresser when his phones goes off, reminding him he only has twenty minutes before he needs to go to school. Pulling on a dark blue long-sleeve shirt and a faded pair of jeans, Castiel runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it. Giving up, he pulls on his jacket, slinging his bag over his shoulder before he puts on his watch. Walking down the stairs, he's glad to not hear the voice of his father.

He says goodbye to his mom as he walks out of the house, closing the door behind him. His breath forms a soft cloud as he nears the school. The air is cold, biting through the thin material of his jacket. He reminds himself to get out his warmer jacket when he gets home. It just before 7:00 when he reaches the school, and the hallways are still virtually empty. Castiel puts his bag in his locker, slamming the metal door shut as he walks away. He walks to the English room, bowing his head anytime he passes another student. When he reaches the English room, he opens the door. Mrs. Tran is sitting behind her desk grading papers. She looks up, frowning slightly as Castiel.

"I missed you yesterday in class, Mr. Novak."

"I apologize. Mr. Shurley must have forgotten to tell you I would be working on an art project. He was supposed to email you."

"I received no such email."

"I'll have Mr. Shurley send you an email. I'm sure he just forgot. I'll ask him tomorrow."

"No," Mrs. Tran interjects, "you'll talk to him now. Go."

"Okay, Mrs. Tran."

"Goodbye, Mr. Novak."

Castiel walks out of the classroom, sighing in frustration. He'd hoped Mrs. Tran would let it go, just accept that Mr. Shurley had forgotten, but of course she wouldn't. Castiel walked to Mr. Shurley's room, opening to door and walking inside. The classroom is empty, so Castiel opens Mr. Shurley's laptop, quickly typing up an email to Mrs. Tran, excusing him for being absent. As he hits send, Mr. Shurley opens the door and Castiel quickly closes the laptop.

"Castiel?"

"Sorry, Mr. Shurley. I was looking for a pen I thought I left in here yesterday."

"Of course. I'll see you in class."

Castiel walks out of the classroom, walking a few feet before collapsing against the lockers, sliding down to the ground, curled into a ball. He stays like that until he hears the halls begin to fill. As he walks to his first class, Castiel stays near the sides of the hall, avoiding anyone who might know him. He is almost to Government, when he feels a presence behind him, shoving him into a locker. His books go crashing to the floor, and strong hands push him against the locker.

"Hey little faggot – how's your boyfriend? Oh, wait. You don't have one, 'cause even a fag won't date you," It's Lucifer Parker, the worst bully in school.  
Castiel stays silent, knowing that saying anything will only provoke him. Lucifer holds him against the locker, moving his hands to Castiel's neck at one point. He lets Castiel go only when Castiel starts to cough. Lucifer punches him once more, walking away after he scatters Castiel's books. Castiel falls to his knees, taking deep, shaky breaths. In a few minutes, Castiel can breathe normally again, so he moves to gather his books, only to find Anna holding them, offering a hand to Castiel.

"Thanks," Castiel mutters.

"No problem," Anna replies.

Government and World History fly by, and Castiel is tired by lunch. He sits on the picnic table, waiting for Anna to join him, but she doesn't. Castiel figures that she's working on some project in art. The rest of the day goes by without incident, but at the end of the day, Castiel is exhausted. All he wants to do is go home and sleep, but he has to pretend to be normal. He has to pretend to be alright. As Castiel is walking out of the school, Anna catches up to him.

"Castiel. Hey, Castiel."

Castiel stops, turning to face Anna.

"Hey, Anna."

"Hey. Sorry, I was wondering if you needed a ride."

"Anna. I appreciate it. But no thanks. I'm fine walking."

Just as Castiel says this, it starts to rain and Anna shakes her head.

"No way. You're coming with me. I'm not letting you walk in the rain."

Castiel sighs in frustration, admitting defeat, "Fine. Thanks."

Anna gestures to Castiel, leading him to her car. It's a Prius, and Castiel likes the color. Anna takes off her backpack, digging around for the keys. She unlocks the door, gesturing for Castiel to go around to the other side. Castiel gets in the car, sitting awkwardly in the passenger seat of Anna's car. He sits quietly, zoning out.

"Castiel. Where do you live?"

"Um, turn left here."

Castiel is snapped out of his thoughts by Anna's voice. He gives Anna directions, directing her to a street just a few blocks from his house. He doesn't know why, but Castiel doesn't want Anna to see his house. The houses are nicer here, another lie. Another lie to pretend that Castiel's life is normal. Castiel gets out of the car, thanking Anna for the ride. He walks to the sidewalk, pretending to dig in his bag for his house keys as Anna drives away. When Anna is out of sight, Castiel heads in the other direction, walking to the back door of his house. He lets himself in, locking the door behind him.

The house is quiet, and Castiel walks to the kitchen, making a cup of tea before he goes up to his room. The silence of the house comforts Castiel, and he remembers that his mom works the night shift tonight. It's Tuesday, and that means that his father won't be home until after midnight, he always goes to the bar. Of course, that means that he'll come home drunk and angry, but Castiel will be asleep by then. As he sits at his desk, Stella curled up on his bed, Castiel looks through his photos. It's nearly ten the next time Castiel looks up, and Castiel's stomach is growling. His tea sits on his desk, cold but untouched. Castiel closes is laptop, going back downstairs. He heats up leftovers from the night before, but once they're warm he gags at the smell. Putting them back in the fridge, he simply warms up his tea, taking it back upstairs. The box in his closet taunts him, but he resists. All he wants to do is take it down, open the box and give in, but he knows he'll regret it.

It's nearly one in the morning when Castiel finally closes his laptop, and his father still isn't home. He takes the opportunity to go to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face before he goes back to his room. He takes off his shirt, switching it out for a soft red tee. He slips his jeans off, pulling on a new pair of boxers. Castiel gets into bed, curling into a ball. A wave of sadness hits him and he lays like that for hours, body wracked with sobs. Finally, he falls asleep, too tired to cry anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel wakes, shivering. The air is cold, and Castiel realizes that he'd left the window open after he let Stella in. It freezing in his room, and it forces Castiel up. He showers quickly, pulling on new boxers, dark blue jeans, and a soft green sweater. He checks his phone, only then realizing that he has nearly an hour before he needs to leave for school. He doesn't want to stay at home, so he puts on his coat and backpack. Castiel leaves his room, tiptoeing past his parent's room. He can hear his father's snores, so he goes downstairs, grabbing a bagel as he walks out the door.

It's raining as Castiel walks to school, and he is jealous of every car that passes. He walks quickly, turning up the collar of his coat. He's soaked when he reaches the school, and he's shivering. He takes off his coat when he reaches his locker, hanging it from the hook in his locker. His coat is practically dripping, but is shirt is mostly dry. The halls are basically empty, and he sits against the wall reading. When the halls start to fill he gets up, opening his locker. Castiel gets out his things for Physics, walking to the classroom. There's no one in the classroom except Mr. Singer, and Castiel takes a seat in the back of the classroom. Mr. Singer looks up, smiling briefly at Castiel before he goes back to grading papers. They sit in silence for about half an hour before Mr. Singer speaks up.

"Castiel, would you be willing to tutor some students for me?"

"Um, I suppose so, why?"

"I know that you will get the hang of this, but I'm not sure that some of my other students will."

"Oh, thank you Mr. Singer. I'd be willing to help, just tell me who."

"Well, I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing that Dean Winchester will need help. Do you know him?"

"Um, yeah. I know him," Castiel blushes.

How could he not know Dean Winchester? Castiel's had a crush on Dean ever since he realized he was gay.

"Good. I'll pair you too up for lab today so that you can start helping him."

"Alright," Castiel says, going back to his book.

Castiel reads until the bell rings, putting away his book and taking out his Physics binder. The classroom fills, and Dean ends up sitting next to Castiel again. Mr. Singer reads off the lab partners, and sure enough Castiel and Dean are together. Castiel glances over to see a flicker emotion cross Dean's face, but it's replaced by a frown so quickly that Castiel wonders if he imagined it. Castiel frowns, wondering what reason the other boy has to be so annoyed. Before he has time to think more about it, Mr. Singer tells them to pair up, and Dean turns to Castiel.

"So, since I'm stuck with out I guess we need to work."

Castiel frowns at Dean's cold tone, "Yes, I suppose."

When Mr. Singer hands them a worksheet, Dean frowns in confusion.

"I don't get it."

"That's okay," Castiel says kindly, "I'll explain it."

He looks over at Dean, only to see the other boy staring at him. Dean looks down when Castiel meets his eyes.

"Look," Castiel says, "You've started right, but you're drawing your diagrams wrong."

He takes his pen and draws over Dean's circle.

"You need to draw the velocity perpendicular to the radius."

"Why?" Dean's voice is kinder now, but still harsh.

"Um, imagine it like this. The earth orbits the sun right?"

"Yes, obviously," the older boy responds.

"So without the sun the earth would just go straight right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Dean looks confused, and Castiel tries to explain it a different way.

"Why doesn't the earth go flying off into space?"

"Because the gravity of the sun keeps it in orbit?"

"Exactly," Castiel smiles, "So if the earth was going in a straight line, how would you draw the velocity?"

"Parallel with the earth's path?"

"Yes. The only difference is that the earth gets pulled in a circle right?"

"So you draw the velocity perpendicular to the radius, because that's how the velocity would be if the sun wasn't there?"

"Right. You got it."

"Really? I actually understand it!"

"Yeah, it's actually pretty simple once you get it."

"Well, I don't know about that," Dean says, but he's smiling a little, "So then how do you draw the rest?"

"I'll show you."

Castiel takes Dean's paper, helping him figure out the rest of the problems. Once they start working, Castiel realizes that Dean is actually pretty smart, he just doesn't seem it. Once Castiel explains the basics to Dean, he picks up the rest fairly quickly.

"You're a good teacher, Castiel," Dean says as the class period comes to an end.

"Thanks," Castiel says, "You're not so bad yourself."

Castiel thinks he sees Dean blush a little, but before he can say anything else Dean storms out of the classroom, leaving Castiel wondering what he did wrong. The rest of the day passes in a blur, and Castiel barely remembers anything. When he gets home, Castiel goes to his room. His mom is working the night shift again, and he doubts his dad will be home much before sunrise. Feeling the large bruise on his arm, Castiel is thankful that his dad isn't home. If he gets home before his dad, he can stay in his room and hopefully his dad will just forget about him. If Castiel's dad is already home when Castiel returns from school there's no way for him to avoid his dad. He wasn't always this bad, but between Castiel coming out and his dad's getting layed-off, things have gotten worse. His dad comes home drunk almost every night, and Castiel and his mom are never safe when his dad is drunk.

Pulling out his laptop, Castiel checks his email. He'd been hoping for a response about a scholarship application he sent to the University of Michigan. There's no reply, so he closes his laptop. It takes him a couple hours to do his homework, and when he's done he takes out his book, reading late into the night.

As the weeks go by, things do not improve with Dean. Sometimes it seems as things are getting better, but anytime Dean is nice to Castiel it is followed by a few days of agony. They're working on a group project and Castiel is supposed to be working with Dean. Dean has been gone for the last two days, and Castiel has no idea when he'll be back. As Castiel prepares to work by himself yet again, Dean strolls leisurely into the room. He lays a note on Mr. Singer's desk then makes his way to the empty chair next to Castiel. Dean sighs, slumping forward in his chair and laying his head on his arms.

"Are you okay?"

"Not really," Dean says with a sigh.

"Do you-" Castiel begins.

Cutting him off, Dean says, "I don't want talk about it."

Castiel sighs, recognizing this side of Dean. He knows that it will be nearly impossible to get Dean to talk when he's like this, so he continues working. After a few minutes of silence, Dean sighs.

"I'm sorry. It's been a rough few days."

"I understand," Castiel says, "I've had weeks like that."

"So, um what is the project supposed to be about?"

"We have to show how they found the orbital radius and periods of the planets, using the equations we've learned in this unit."

"Okay, so we just have to solve for the period and radius?"

"Not quite, we'll also have to do some research to show how they found the periods."

"Oh. That sounds complicated."

"It's not that bad, I promise. We do need to make up for lost time though."

"How about we meet at the library after school."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Castiel says, surprised by Dean's offer.

"Great," Dean says as the bell rings, "I'll see you there."

Smiling slightly, Castiel heads to English. The day seems to drag on, and Castiel is glad when the final bell rings. He walks to the library, pulling his jacket tightly around him to ward off the cold air. It's gotten cold in the last few weeks, and Castiel wishes he had a thicker coat.

Castiel is greeted by the warmth of the library when he opens the door. There aren't many people in the library, and Castiel choose an empty table as he waits for Dean. He's only been there a few minutes when the doors open, letting in a rush of cold air. Dean enters the library, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. He gives one cups to Castiel and sits across from him. They work for a couple of hours before Castiel realizes that his father will be home soon.

"I'm sorry I have to go, I need to get home."

Dean frowns as Castiel gathers his things, "Why do you need to go home?"

"My parents are expecting me."

"Wait," Dean says, grabbing Castiel's arm.

Castiel drops his bag, drawing back from Dean. Sensing his pain, Dean takes Castiel's wrist lightly, pulling up his sleeve exposing a large purple bruise.

"Castiel? What the hell?"

Castiel jerks his arm away, pulling down his sleeve to cover the bruise.

"It’s nothing. I have to go," Castiel grabs his bag and rushes out the door, leaving a confused and worried Dean Winchester staring after him.

He beats his dad home, but barely. Castiel rushes up the stairs, locking himself in his room. The bruise on his arm is throbbing and Castiel is nearly in tears. After doing his homework and reading for a few minutes, Castiel collapses onto his bed. He's held it all together for so long, he can't anymore. His body wracked with sobs, he stares at the box in his closet. He lays like that for hours, resisting the urge to take the small box out of his closet.

As Castiel walks to school the next day, he dreads facing Dean. He's almost hoping that Dean will be gone again, but no such luck. Castiel is still nearly fifteen minutes from the school when Dean pulls up beside him.

"Castiel."

"Hey Dean."

"Do you want a ride?"

"No, not really."

"Castiel, it's raining. You're be soaked."

"I'm fine."

"Dude, you're shivering. Get in."

Castiel sighs, he has to admit that he is cold. He opens the door of Dean's 1967 Impala and gets in. The car is warm, and Castiel stops shivering almost immediately.

"Thanks."

"It's not a problem."

They sit in silence for the ride to school, the previous night's events in the front of both their minds.  
"I'm sorry about last night," Dean says, "I shouldn't have pried."

"No, it's fine. I'm sorry I freaked out."

"We still have quite a bit of work to do, can we get together again tonight?"

"Yeah. Library again?"

"Sure. Five-ish?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Castiel says.

When they pull up to the school, Castiel thanks Dean for the ride. They head their separate ways, Dean to English and Castiel to Government. The day passes in a blur and Castiel is glad when it is over. They only have four days of school this week, so Castiel wants to find some way to be out of the house on Friday. Castiel returns to his house for only a few minutes to get the two books he needs to return. After that, he walks to the library. He's a little early, so he isn't concerned when Dean isn't there. When the clock turns 5:15, Castiel frowns. Figuring Dean is just late, he continues to wait. Eventually, Castiel realizes Dean isn't coming, so he packs up his things and goes home. He sees his father's car in the driveway, and he walks to the back of the house. Letting himself in the backdoor, Castiel closes the door as quietly as possible. He's halfway up the stairs when his father stops him.

"Hey. Where have you been?"

"Library," Castiel says quietly, hoping to avoid his father's drunken rage.

"Huh. I doubt it."

"I swear. Just the library."

His father pushes him against the wall, "You better not be lying to me."

Castiel sighs as his father lets him down and walks away. He enters his room, closing the door behind him. He can hear his parents arguing, but he doesn't want to risk going back downstairs. Stella is curled on his pillow, and he strokes her head lovingly. He's insulted that Dean wouldn't even bother to tell him he's not coming. Castiel is used to it though, he's spent his entire life being forgotten and ignored.

A familiar feeling of hopelessness engulfs Castiel and he lays down. He tries to resist, but he can't. Castiel stands, reaching up to take the box off the top shelf of his closet. Opening the lid, he takes out one of the razor blades, running his finger over the sharp edge. Castiel sits on the edge of his bed, the sharp blade slicing into his skin effortlessly. New cuts are added to the numerous scars covering Castiel's wrists and thighs. The sharp sting wakes him up, relieving some of the pain that has been plaguing him for weeks. He runs the blade over his skin, drawing blood. He breathes deeply, relishing the pain that he knows he deserves. The blood runs down his wrists, and Castiel grabs a tissue, pressing it over the fresh cuts. He knows he has to hide any evidence of what he's done. When the cuts stop bleeding he feels better, and he returns the box to its place in his closet.

When Castiel wakes up, it's still early, but he wants to get out of the house before his dad wakes up. Castiel showers quickly, covering the bruises and cuts on his arms with a gray sweater, and the cuts on his legs with a pair of dark jeans. He puts his laptop, wallet, science project, and a book in his bag, grabbing his full water bottle off his desk.

Glad to be out of the house, Castiel walks aimlessly. He doesn't have anywhere to be, and Castiel finds himself at a café on Main Street. After ordering a large coffee, Castiel takes a seat at a table in the corner. He opens his laptop, anxiously checking his email. He's supposed to have found out about the scholarship by know, and he's worried that he hasn't heard anything. Getting a full ride to the University of Michigan would be his best chance to get out of Lawrence. There's no email from the University of Michigan, but he does have one from Cornell. It's a reminder about the deadline for early decision and Castiel has already decided that Cornell isn't his first choice. But what's the rush, he doesn't have to decide for another semester. Castiel is startled by a presence near his shoulder.

"Hey, Castiel."

"Dean."

"I'm sorry I wasn't at the library last night."

"No, it's fine. I get it. You have more important things to do."

"I –no. It's just that, I –I had a date," Dean stammers.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, I totally forgot about it yesterday morning and-"

"No, I get it. I'm not that important."

"It’s not that, it’s just- I'm sorry," Dean apologizes.

Castiel frowns, "I just want to make sure that we get the project done."

"I–I have time now, I mean if you want."

"No, I have to go."

"Oh. I'll see you in Physics?"

"Sure."

Castiel hurriedly packs his things, walking away from Dean. He's annoyed, and he can't just forget about what Dean did. He's been hurt too many times to forgive that quickly. Now that he can't go to the café, Castiel doesn't know where to go. He'd planned on staying at the café for a few hours then going home, but he can't now. He would go to the library, but he doesn't want to go back after last night.

There's nowhere for Castiel to go, so he walks aimlessly around town. Sometime in the afternoon he goes home, carefully checking that the house is empty before going inside. He climbs the stairs to his room, locking the door behind him. Castiel goes back to working on the science project, trying not to think of Dean. In the late afternoon, Castiel's phone rings. It's an unknown number, but he picks up anyway.

"Castiel? Is this the right number?"

"Dean? How did you get my number?"

"I, uh, I asked Anna. I figured that she'd have it."

"Why are you calling me?"

"I'm sorry about last night. Can we get together sometime this weekend to finish the project?"

"I don't know. Maybe, I guess, but the library will be closed…"

"Oh, I'd forgotten. We could go to my house, I guess."

Castiel blinks in surprise, "Dean, I don't know."

"Please, Castiel, I want to get a good grade on this project."

"I'm sure."

"Okay, I get it. If you decide to come over, my address is 5586 Oak Street, apartment 5. I'll be there all weekend."

"Bye, Dean."

Castiel hangs up the phone, throwing it onto the bed in frustration. He doesn't want to forgive Dean, but it's hard not to. Dean sounded so sincere and apologetic, making it hard for Castiel to stay mad. He has a soft spot for Dean Winchester, and there is nothing he could do about it. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Castiel's eyes fly to the box in his closet. It's only been a day, and he already wants the relief of cutting again. He resists for ten minutes, but eventually gives in.

After a three quick cuts, Castiel is already feeling better. He's so ashamed that it makes him feel better, but it does. Before he cut for the first time, Castiel always wondered why someone would hurt themselves on purpose. Then his father threatened to kill him, and Castiel figured he'd save him the trouble. Two years ago, Castiel slit down his arm, thinking he'd bleed out. He didn't bleed out, but he did feel better. Now there are dozens of cuts crisscrossing that first one, plus dozens on his other wrist and his thighs.

It takes only five cuts for Castiel to calm down, and he's breathing normally again. There's blood streaming down his wrist, and he barely stops it from dripping onto his bed. When the bleeding slows, he lays down, exhaustion taking hold. He asleep in minutes, and he doesn't wake up until noon the next day.

When he looks out his window, he sees that it's raining. The weather has been getting progressively worse, and it reminds him that he needs a new coat. He knows his parents won't buy him shit, so he digs through his dad's wallet, finding a card he hopes won't be denied. He walks out the door, grabbing his mom's keys as he goes. She's just home from the hospital, and Castiel knows that she'll be asleep for a while. Turning the heat up as high as it will go, Castiel drives to the mall. He'd rather not go somewhere where he has any chance of running into someone from school, but the mall is the best place to buy anything.

In just under ten minutes, Castiel is parking his mom's Toyota Camry between two large trucks and turning off the car. He gets out of the car, the fat raindrops falling in his eyes. It's cold, and Castiel rushes into the mall, shaking the excess water from his hair. Praying that he doesn't see anyone he knows, he walks toward Dillard's where he knows he can find a good coat. Once he's there, he flips mindlessly through the racks, not liking any of the coat's he sees. There is one, a tan trench coat that falls just below his knees. He can tell that it's warm even before he puts it on, and when he tries it on he immediately loves it. He grimaces when he sees the price tag though, it's over two hundred dollars. There's no way he can afford it, even with his mom's credit card. Castiel settles for a warm-looking pea coat. It's only $50, so Castiel knows that his mom won't notice the extra charge. He pays for the coat, pulling it out of the bag it put it on as soon as he leaves the store.

Castiel is walking past the food court when he notices a familiar figure at one of the tables. He's about to go over and say hello to Dean when he notices who Dean is sitting with. It's Jo Harvelle, the hottest girl in school. Jo is leaning over the table, and even from here Castiel can clear see down her shirt. He sighs. An unmistakable feeling of betrayal flows over Castiel, but he has no idea why. There's no reason from him to feel betrayed, he has no claim over Dean. Castiel frowns, turning away from the food court. He drives home, numb. He's itching to cut again, but he resists.

Castiel had been planning on going over to Dean's later, but there's no way he's going now. The chance that Dean might be with Jo is enough for Castiel to stay away. He doesn't want to see Dean with anyone, but especially not Jo. Instead, he takes his camera and walks to the park. It's only a few minutes from his house, and when he gets there he instantly feels better. His mom used to take him there, when he was just five or six. That was about when they stopped doing things as a family, but he still remembers it fondly. She would bring a book, and they'd spend hours there.

Castiel walks to the picnic table they always used, and he sits with a sigh.

Most of the trees have lost their leaves, their branches forming strange shapes against the sky. The grass is starting to turn brown, and it crunches whenever anyone steps. The wind is strong, but Castiel's new coat keeps him warm. He doesn't know how long he sits there, but the sky is turning bold colors when he finally looks up. He lifts his camera to his eye, focusing on a single tree. The color of the sky shows up well in Castiel's camera, and he smiles. Even before he presses the shutter, Castiel is confident that the photo will turn out. He presses the shutter button, and pulls the camera down, opening his newest photo. He instantly loves the way the dark tree contrasts with the bright sky.

Standing up, Castiel wanders through the park. There's a pond on the far edge, and he wonders if the sky will be reflected in the still water. When he reaches the pond, he realizes that he is wrong. The water isn't still, disturbed by a single duck landing on the water. The water ripples out, distorting the perfect image. Castiel raises his camera, quickly snapping an image of the pond. He doesn't think he'll like it, but when he looks at it, he's surprised. The duck is captured, still closing its wings and the pond still reflects the bright colors in the sky.

It's getting dark, and Castiel walks home. He keeps his camera on, taking pictures of anything that appeals to him in the slightest. When he gets home, he goes through the back door, managing to escape his father's notice. He turns on his laptop, copying over the 53 new photos he has. He prints the photo of the duck, taping to the wall above his desk. He works late into the night, editing all of the photos he look. When he's done, it's nearly three in the morning, and he can hardly keep his eyes open. He doesn't even both to take off his clothes, falling asleep almost instantly.  
Castiel wakes to the sound of breaking glass and his mother's scream. He rushes down the stairs, entering the kitchen only to see his father pinning his mother against the wall.

"Dad! Stop!"

His father pulls back, only to turn to Castiel.

"This is not your place."

His father's fist goes flying, connecting solidly with Castiel's eye. Castiel doubles over in pain, but he knows that his mother will be safe now. Hitting Castiel is one of his father's favorite past times, and it always calms him down. Castiel grabs a bag of frozen corn from the freezer, returning to his room. He wraps the corn in a tee shirt before laying down and placing it on his eye. He can already feel it starting to swell, and he doesn't want it to be visible on Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone like to beta read for me? You can find me on Tumblr @debategeeketc to get in touch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K, babes, this chapter is really violent, so please be careful. You'll have a pretty good idea where shit goes down, and just skip the rest of this chapter if you need to.
> 
> kisses, r

When Castiel's eye starts to feel better, he removes the corn from his eye, blinking slowly. He can open his eye all the way, it doesn't hurt very much, and his vision isn't blurry. Those are all good signs, but when Castiel reaches to feel the tender skin around his eye he realizes that it's bruised. There's nothing he can do about it though, so he brings his hand down, returning to his desk. He has two essays due, and the rest of the day passes working on them. When he's done, the shadows outside his window are long, and Castiel stomach is growling. He can't hear his father, so he goes downstairs, reheating leftovers from earlier in the week and bringing them up to his room.

Castiel eats quickly, bringing the dishes back downstairs when he is done. He doesn't want to run into his father, even more than usual. His father is always testy on Sunday, dreading the week to come, and it often ends poorly if Castiel or his mother crosses him. There's no one downstairs, and Castiel makes it back up to his room without incident. Castiel walks to the bathroom, noticing the extent of the bruising on his eye for the first time. The bruise covers most of his cheek and extends all the way to his hairline. Castiel takes off his shirt, noticing that most of the bruises have faded. Stepping out of his jeans, Castiel showers quickly. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Castiel returns to his room. The air is cold, and Castiel is shivering. He dries his hair, pulling on a soft sweater and jeans. The rest of the day passes quickly, and Castiel is asleep before nine. He's exhausted, and he has no idea why.

Monday morning comes too soon; the bags under Castiel's eyes are dark than ever but the bruise has mostly faded. Castiel gets dressed, giving up on his hair. It's raining, and Castiel begins to dread walking to school. He sits on the edge of his bed, fingering hovering over Dean's name in his phone. He wants to call and ask for a ride, but he doesn't. There's no way he can face Dean after blowing him off over the weekend. Castiel knows that he'll have to face Dean eventually, but he's happy to put it off for as long as possible.

Castiel walks to school, pulling his coat tightly around him. He's almost to school when he sees Dean's Impala behind him, slowing enough that Castiel is sure Dean sees him. Dean doesn't stop though, and Castiel sighs. He doesn't know what's up with Dean, sometimes it seems like they could be friends, and sometimes it seems like Dean hates him. It almost makes him wish things would go back to the way things were when he never spoke to Dean, but then Dean will say something that makes Castiel glad that they're almost friends.

When he reaches the school, the bell for first hour rings. Castiel hurries to class, and he's glad when Dean isn't there. He spends the first period of the day working on their project, and when he's done he figure's there's only a few finishing touches left. When Mr. Singer thanks Castiel for tutoring Dean and comments of how much Dean's grades have come up, Castiel brushes.

"Thanks."

"I do appreciate it, Castiel. I think it's helping him a lot."

Mr. Singer walks away, and Castiel goes back to his work. When the bell rings he packs up his things, walking quickly to English. They're still reading the Hobbit in English, and Castiel doesn't pay attention for most of the hour. When they have time to read at the end of the hour, he takes out his own book, finishing nearly a chapter before the period ends. He's sitting at the lunch table when Anna walks over, sitting down across from him.

"Hey Castiel."

"Hey Anna."

"How are you?"

"Okay, thanks. You?"

"Good. Are you going to do the gallery thing in art?"

"I'm not sure," he mumbles, "I'm not sure what I'd present."

"You could use the photos you took in New York."

"I don't know. I'll think about it. Are you?" Castiel looks up.

"Oh god! What happened?" Anna blurts, noticing the bruising on his face for the first time.  
"It's nothing."

"Castiel, a giant bruise covering like half your face is a big deal. What happened?"

"I swear Anna, it's fine."

"Castiel it obviously isn't fine. Wait, it wasn't your dad was it?"

"No, of course it wasn't my dad," Castiel lies, "I ran into Lucifer over the weekend. He hit me. It's no big deal."

"You need to tell someone when that happens. Get the cops involved or something."

"Anna, it doesn't happen that often. If it does get bad, I'll go to the cops. I swear."

"Fine," Anna huffs, folding her arms over her chest.

They fall into silence, sitting together. The weather is cold, and both Anna and Castiel are practically shivering. It's close enough to winter that they need to start staying inside for lunch, but neither Castiel nor Anna wants to. Lunch passes in silence, and Castiel nods goodbye to Anna as he heads to class. The art room is empty when Castiel arrives, and he remembers that the rest of the class is gone on a trip to some art museum. They were going all the way to Kansas City, and Castiel didn't want to spend that much time with his class, so he stayed behind. Since everyone from the rest of the art classes is gone, there's no substitute and Castiel is alone.

Castiel spends the period setting up the frames for his photos, and he has most of them done by the end of the period. It's nice to have a period to himself, and Castiel's minds wanders. Every time a conversation with Dean enters his thoughts, he pushes it away angrily. He's not going to think about how Dean brought him coffee when they first met at the library, or how Dean's eyes lit up when he started to understand what they were going in physics. He's not going to think of the way Dean offered to give him a ride to school, or how Dean asked Anna for his number to find out if they could work on the project. Try as he may, Castiel can't keep Dean out of his thoughts, and he finally plugs his phone into the speakers, turning the volume up as high as he dares. The period flies by, but Castiel is happy with the progress he made.

He dreads going to Calc, but they're starting a new unit and there's no way to avoid it. There's no way to avoid Dean in Calc, so he resigns himself to it. He's the first one to class, and he takes a seat in the back of the classroom, sitting quietly as the classroom fills. He's relieved when the late bell rings and Dean isn't there, but the feeling is short lived. A little less than ten minutes into class, Dean comes in, handing something to Ms. Harvelle and looking up. He sees that the only empty seat is next to Castiel, and Castiel notices a small shift in his stance. As Dean takes a seat next to Castiel he looks pointedly away, ignoring Castiel's small smile. Castiel frowns, wondering why Dean is ignoring him. Before he can think any more about it, Ms. Harvelle begins to speak, explaining their new unit.

When they're told to pair up, the rest of the class immediately does, leaving Castiel and Dean to work together. Anytime Dean addresses Castiel, his voice is cold and harsh. Castiel tries to be nice, but Dean only becomes more moody. They manage to work together, but not without incident. At one point, Ms. Harvelle comes over to ask if there's a problem, only for Dean to shoot her a withering glare. Castiel sighs, curious about the other boy's change in demeanor. When the bell rings, Dean packs up his things as quickly as he can, rushing out of the classroom. Castiel sighs, looking after the other boy, wondering what he did wrong.

After collecting his things from his locker, Castiel walks to the library, taking a seat at one of the empty tables. He's been at the library for almost an hour before his phone buzzes, startling him.

Hey. Can we work on the project tonight?

It's Dean, and Castiel is surprised by the text. After Calc, he was surprised to hear from him.

Yeah. I'm at the library now.

Dean doesn't reply, but a little less than ten minutes later the library doors open, letting in a burst of cold air. Dean takes a seat across from Castiel, shrugging off his coat. Despite the fact that Dean is there of his own accord, he still seems mad at Castiel.

"Dean, I don't know why you're mad at me, but can we just work? We really need to get this done."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever," Dean doesn’t look up, and for that Castiel is grateful.

Castiel frowns at Dean's response, but he lets it go. They work for just over an hour, nearly finishing the project. They have to complete an essay and a poster, and the essay is done by the time they finish. All they need to do on the poster is glue things down. Castiel is about to suggest that they leave when Dean looks up.

"Can you not?"

Castiel is confused, he hadn't thought he was doing anything annoying.

"Not what?"

"You keep tapping your fingers on the table. It's annoying me."

"I'm sorry," Castiel says quietly.

"No, you obviously aren't, or you would stop."

"I don't even realize that I'm doing it," Castiel looks down, noticing what he'd been doing for the first time.

"Well it's pissing me off. Stop."

They fall silent, and before he can stop Castiel is tapping his fingers again. Dean's hand flies over the table, slamming down hard over Castiel's.

"Stop, goddammit."

Wordlessly, Castiel gathers his things, hurrying out of the library. His hand is stinging and all that he can think is how familiar the look in Dean's eyes was. It was the same look his father has before he hits Castiel. It scared him, to know that other people could act just like his father. What scared him more was how he'd reacted. He could deal with getting punched by someone like Lucifer at school, but when Dean hit him it was like when his father hit him: it was personal.

"Cas, wait!"

Castiel turns on his heel, glaring at Dean, "What?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you."

"You're right," Castiel replies angrily, "you shouldn't have."

Castiel is a forgiving person, but there's no way he can forgive Dean for acting like his father. Castiel has spent too many nights cowering in fear, praying that his father won't come up to his room.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just–I feel. Whatever, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it Dean."

"Cas, what can I do."

Castiel pauses, realizing what Dean had called him, and his voice goes cold.

"Why did you call me Cas?"

"I-I don't know. It just felt right."

"Right? After you hit me, you think it feels right? To call me Cas? Dean, just go."

"Cas-"

"It's Castiel."

Castiel turned away, walking quickly away from Dean. He hadn't even noticed the cold before, but he was freezing now. He couldn't believe Dean's nerve. No one had called him that since –no. He wasn't going to think about that. He couldn't think about that.

"Castiel. Please. At least let me give you a ride."

Dean voice breaks the silence, and Castiel turns to face him a final time.

"No, Dean."

He continues to walk, beginning to shiver. His lips are starting to turn blue when he reaches his house, and he quickly climbs the stairs, slamming the door to his room behind him. He pulls the blankets of his bed around him, and after nearly an hour he finally stops shivering. Tonight, he doesn't even try to resist, he simply walks to his closet and opens the box. Instantly a wave of relief washes over him, the blood welling on his wrist. A dozen new cuts cover scars that were starting to fade, and Castiel feels a little better. He doesn't even put the razor away before he falls asleep, and when he wakes it is still clutched tightly in his hand. He’s slept through his alarm, and it's nearly noon, but Castiel doesn't care that he's missing school. His parents are away for his dad’s business trip, and they won’t check their phones when the school calls. He lays in bed for hours, not doing anything. When he finally has the strength to move, it's late afternoon. He stumbles down the stairs, finding his way to the kitchen.

Castiel opens the freezer, throwing a frozen dinner into the microwave. The smell of food disgusts him, but he hasn't eaten in over a day and he feels as though he may puke. Castiel forces down the meal, gagging slightly at the taste. The last thing he wants to do is eat, but the hunger in his stomach won't go away. When he returns to his room, he notices two new texts from Anna.

Where are you?

I got work for you. Check your email.

Castiel smiles slightly, thinking that he doesn't deserve a friend as good as Anna. He collapses back into bed, a tear falling down his cheek as he falls asleep. The next time Castiel wakes up for more than five minutes, it's late the next day. He glances at the clock sadly, not having realized how much time had passed. It's all he can do to drag himself to the bathroom to pee, and that simple action exhausts him. Once he's back in bed, Castiel opens his phone. There's another message from Anna, but he doesn't bother to read it. He sees a missed call from the school, and he realizes that they have no idea why he isn't there. They'll want a good reason, so Castiel braces himself for the conversation.

"Lawrence High School, how can I help you?" the secretary's voice is chipper, and it's all Castiel can do not to groan.

He deepens his voice slightly, adding a rough edge that makes him sound older, "Hello. I'm calling to tell you that my son Castiel Novak won't be in school for the next few weeks. We've had a family, ah, incident, and I don't know exactly when he'll be back."

"I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Novak. I'll tell all of Castiel's teachers and have them email him his work."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

Castiel hangs up the phones before she can reply, sighing in relief. His mom is at some nursing conference, and his dad won't bother him unless he's out of his room, so Castiel will be fine not going to school for a while. Simply going to the bathroom and calling the school have exhausted Castiel, not physically but mentally, and he lays back down, absentmindedly stroking Stella. Before long he's asleep again, tossing restlessly. He doesn't sleep well, and Castiel only feels more tired the next time he wakes up.

The days all blur together, and Castiel doesn't know how long it's been since he's spoken to someone, but he thinks it's been at least a few weeks. He gets out of bed occasionally to eat or drink, but other than that he just sleeps. It's been almost a year since Castiel has been this bad, and he'd been hoping that it wouldn't happen again. The last time it had happened he hadn't left the house is nearly a month.

Castiel is downstairs getting water when the doorbell rings. He's going to ignore it and just go upstairs, but whoever it is keeps ringing the doorbell and won't go away. He sighs, looking down at his tee shirt and sweats, but not caring enough to do anything about it. He walks slowly to the door, dreading the social interaction.

"Cas?"

Dean Winchester is standing on his front step, looking down awkwardly.

"Dean," Castiel voice is rough from not being used, and it makes Dean look up.

"Are you okay? You kinda look like shit."

"Dean, why are you here?"

"I was wondering, um," Dean hesitates, "Are you done with that project. It was due a couple weeks ago, and Mr. Singer is starting to get mad that you don't have it in."

"Well, I'm sorry. I'll go get it and you can turn it in."

"Cas, what happened?"

"It's nothing. Let me go get that project. I'll be right back."

He turns away, leaving the door open but not inviting Dean in. Castiel’s been gone for a few minutes when Dean hears a loud thud, followed by silence.

"Cas? You okay? Cas?"

When there's no response, Dean steps through the door, closing it gently behind him. He makes his way to where he thinks the sound came from, unsure of where he's going. He's stepping through doorway between the kitchen and the living room when he finally sees Castiel, crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. His breath catches in his throat and he rushes over to Castiel, dropping to his knees next to him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Cas? Cas!"

Dean drops to his knees, laying a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"CAS! CAS! Wake up, come on please. Cas, I need you to wake up."

Rolling Castiel onto his back, Dean pressing a finger to his wrist. He can feel Castiel's pulse, and he sighs in relief. Sliding his arms under Castiel's back, Dean lifts the smaller boy off the floor and carries him to the couch. He carefully lays Cas's head on the pillow, brushing Cas's hair out of his eyes. He checks Cas's pulse again, frowning.

"Come on Cas," he mutters, "You need to wake up. I need you to wake up."

For almost ten minutes Dean watches Cas fearfully, the lump in his throat growing. Finally Castiel begins to stir, and Dean rushes to his side.

"Cas?"

"Mmm? Dean? What-"

"Cas, you passed out. You were getting the report and- Oh god," Dean's voice cracks.  
"I'm fine. I just-," Castiel starts to sit up, and Dean presses a hand against his chest.

"No way. You need to rest."

"Dean. I'm fine."

"No, Cas, you obviously aren't. When was the last time you ate?"

"Uh," Castiel hesitates, deciding whether or not to lie, "a few days ago, maybe. I don't know."  
"A few days ago? Cas, you need to eat."

 

"Dean, I'm not hungry. I swear."

"Dammit, Cas. Come on."

Dean helps Castiel sit, and finally stand, supporting him with a hand around the smaller boy's waist. Castiel's legs are shaking, and Dean carries most of his weight.

"You need to lie down, and then I'm going to get you food. Where's your room?"

"Upstairs," Cas says quietly, leaning against Dean."

"Alright. Come on."

Dean leads Castiel slowly up the stairs, walking as slowly as Castiel needs. When the reach the top of the stairs, Cas gestures weakly toward his room. Castiel stumbles, nearly falling to the ground again and Dean picks him up, carrying Castiel the rest of the way to his room. Dean lays gently lays Castiel on his bed.

"Stay here. I'll be back. Don't move."

Castiel nods weakly, "I think I may fall asleep, Dean."

"Cas, that's okay."

Dean quietly closes the door, padding softly down the stairs. When he reaches the kitchen, Dean searches through the cabinets quietly, finally finding what he's looking for. In a few minutes, Dean has made a simmering pot of soup, and he smiles slightly. There is hardly anything he can cook, but the last thing his mom had taught him to make was soup. Dean searches through the drawers until he finds a ladle and pours a bowl of soup. Then, he grabs a spoon and a slice of bread from the toaster before heading back to Cas's room.

When he opens the door, he sees that Castiel has fallen asleep and he smiles. He quietly sets the soup on the edge of the desk and takes a seat in the chair, taking a moment to look at Cas's room for the first time. Immediately, he's fascinated by the photos on the walls. There are hundreds of photos on the wall, and they're all astonishing. Dean runs his hand lightly over the photos above Castiel's desk, and one immediately sticks out to him. It's from their trip to New York City and Dean instantly recognizes the setting. It's from just outside the Empire State Building, the last place they visited on their trip. The weather had turned bad, and their class was caught unaware. 

The people of New York City were prepared, and they all had opened their umbrellas instantly. The picture above Castiel's desk is of a businessman in a dark suit, hurrying down the street with a dark umbrella. Dean wouldn't have remembered it, but he remembered watching Castiel freeze, pulling out his camera. The dark haired boy had taken only a moment to take the photo, but that was the first time that Dean had noticed him. Dean hears a soft cough from behind him and he lowers his hand, turning to face Castiel.

"Hey."

"Hey," Castiel's voice is quiet and weak.

"Do you want some soup?"

"Please," Cas nods slightly, reaching for the bowl.

Dean hands the bowl and spoon to him, but Cas's hands are shaking so hard that he can barely hold the bowl.

"Here."

Dean takes the bowl back from Castiel, setting it on the desk. He sits on the edge of the bed, helping Castiel sit up. He then fills the spoon with soup, raising it to Cas's lips. Castiel slurps gratefully, sighing as the warm liquid soothes his throat.

"More?"

Dean obliges his, lifting the spoon to Cas lips again and again until the soup is gone. Finally, he hands the bread to Castiel who tears it apart eagerly. When Castiel has finished the bread he looks up at Dean.

"Thank you."

"I-I, it's nothing."

"No, Dean, it is definitely something. I passed out and you made me soup and – thank you."

"Cas, it's just what anyone would have done. I was worried about you, and then you said that you hadn't eaten anything in days and I couldn't leave you like that," Dean trailed off, realizing that he was babbling.

Castiel smiled, looking up at Dean.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Uh, you're welcome," Dean blushes slightly.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can have more soup? Please?"

Dean nods, grabbing the bowl from the desk. He quickly walks downstairs, filling the bowl of soup for Cas and grabbing another bowl for himself. When he returns to Cas's room, Castiel is sitting up further and more of the color has returned to his cheeks. Dean hands him the bowl, and the shaking in his hands has calmed enough for him to eat the soup by himself. Castiel quickly eats the soup, and most of Dean's is still remaining when Castiel sets his bowl on the desk. Dean is sitting on the foot of Cas's bed and their eyes meet, only for Cas's to flick down to Dean's lap. Dean smiles slightly, handing his bowl to Cas.

"Hungry?"

"I- yeah."

"Cas, what happened?"

"I've been," Castiel pauses, "I've been sick."

Dean can tell that he's lying, but he doesn't press.

"Are you getting better?"

"I don't know. I think so. I hope so."

Castiel sips his soup slowly, enjoying the warmth. He'd been starving, but he'd been afraid to eat.

Now that Dean was here, he'd had to and he instantly felt better. He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly becoming aware of how bad he looked. His hair was a mess and it'd been almost a week since he'd showered. His clothes were rumpled and his breath was horrid. He moves to stand, only for Dean's hand to fly to his leg.

"Please. Stay here."

Cas's breathe hitches, and he sinks back onto the bed. Simply standing up had exhausted him, and he sighed.

"Okay."

Dean realizes his hand is still resting lightly on Cas's thigh, and he quickly draws back. Dean can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he pulls further away from Cas.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks to you. You don't have to stay anymore."

"I don't mind, but you should rest. I'm going to go downstairs and clean up."

"I'll try to sleep."

Dean smiles, and he watches Cas make himself comfortable on his bed. He leaves the room, leaving the door cracked open. He pads down the stairs, making his way to the kitchen. He takes the soup off the stove, emptying it into a refrigerator dish and placing the empty pot in the sink. He takes a few minutes to clean up the kitchen before returning to Castiel's room.

The other boy is asleep, and Dean sits quietly at Cas's desk. He waits for almost an hour, but when it becomes evident that Cas won't wake up anytime soon, Dean gathers his things. He'd shed his coat by Cas's bed, and his phone was lying on the desk. He wrote a note to Cas, explaining that he was leaving and that Cas could text him if he needed anything. Dean quietly closed the door to Castiel's room as he left, walking slowly down the stairs.

Cas wakes almost three hours after Dean left, sitting up quickly. His eyes search the room looking for Dean, but his eyes fall on the empty chair. He stands, noticing the note.

Cas-  
I have to go home, but I hope you're feeling better. You can text me anytime.  
-Dean

Cas sighs as he reads Dean's note, frowning slightly. He'd hoped that Dean would at least stay until he woke up, but he figured it was too much to ask. Cas sinks onto his bed, his head in his hands. He feels better now, but Cas is still exhausted. Castiel wishes that he hadn't woken up alone. Now there's nothing stopping Cas. He stands, walking softly to the closet, reaching for the box he hasn't touched in weeks. The gleaming blade is still there, and Cas picks it up in relief.  
The cold blade pierces his soft skin, and Castiel sighs. He hasn't felt anything in weeks, and the sharp pain is a relief. The blood wells on the curve of his wrist, and Castiel watches as it drips onto his bed; on any other day, he'd try to stop it, but today he can't bring himself to care.

Cut after cut, drip after drip, and finally Cas begins to feel better. He sets the blade in its ox, but not before carefully wiping it clean. As quickly as the relief comes, it is replaced by a feeling of shame. It'd been so long since Cas had felt anything, but now that he finally did it meant that he'd given in. Castiel lays down, pulling his comforter over him. He knows that he should clean his wrist, but he can't bring himself to; he just doesn't care.

Castiel has just fallen asleep when he hears his phone go off and he rolls over, noticing a new message from Dean. He sets his phone down, not bothering to reply. His eyes fall shut, and he doesn't wake until late the next morning. When he does, he has five new messages from Dean.

Cas? You awake yet?

Obviously not. Sorry, I'll let you sleep.

G'nite Cas. Sleep well.

Feeling better?

Cas? You okay?

K. I'll stop texting you.

Cas sighs, reading the texts from Dean. He replies to Dean's messages as soon as he can.

Yeah, I'm better. I just woke up, so that's why I wasn't texting you. See you in school?

Cas sends the message to Dean, setting down his phone before he makes his way downstairs. He opens the fridge, seeing a container full of the soup Dean made yesterday and he smiles. Dean had been so nice. Castiel takes the container from the fridge, dumping a little bit of it into a bowl. Cas puts the bowl into the microwave, heating it up for two minutes. When the timer goes off, Cas jumps. Lately, he's been more jumpy than usual and he can't figure out why.  
Cas eats the soup quickly before heading back upstairs. He collapses into bed when he reaches his room, and he's asleep in seconds. Dean texts him back, but Cas is soundly asleep when his phone goes off.

Get better Cas. I'll see you in school.

It's another week before Castiel returns to school, and he only goes back because he needs to make sure he doesn't fail any of his classes for the semester. Most of his teachers are understanding, and his grades are still good enough. They aren't nearly as good as before, but that's just the way things are. Castiel doesn't see Dean at all the first morning that he's back, and he wonders if the other boy is ignoring him. He finally sees Dean outside the school after all their classes are over.

"Cas?"

Before Cas has time to respond, Dean is hugging him. Timidly, Cas puts his arms around Dean.

"Cas, I'm so glad that you're back."

"You are?" Cas asks quietly.

"Of course. I need you."

"You what?"

"I said, I need you to help me with physics. I'm so confused."

"Oh," Castiel says, frowning a little, "Well, I'm free after school, if you wish we can meet at the library."

Dean's demeanor changes, and the shift doesn't go unnoticed by Castiel.

"No, I'm busy tonight. Goodbye Castiel."

Dean walks away quickly, leaving Castiel staring after him in confusion.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next two weeks, Dean says a total of three words to Cas. Once, in the hallway he says hi to Cas. Cas replies, but there's a stony look in Dean's eyes and he storms off. Then a couple days later, Cas asks Dean if he wants to get together to study sometime and Dean tells him to fuck off. It almost sends Castiel spiraling into depression, but he manages to survive with only a few new scars. It scares Castiel that Dean affects him so much, but there's nothing he can do about it. Cas had thought that he and Dean were on the way to becoming friends, then Dean started to become more distant.

Castiel is sitting in physics when Dean stumbles in, the bags under his eyes darker than ever. Cas tries not to stare, but it's obvious that Dean is hurting. Dean's chest is heaving, and it seems as though each breath hurts him. His jaw is bruised, as though someone used him as a punching bag. Class is already halfway over and the entire class watches him walk slowly to the seat beside Cas. A quiet murmur passes around the classroom before Mr. Singer tells them all to quiet down. Mr. Singer explains their new assignment. He announces the groups, and Cas and Dean are stuck in a group of two. Cas looks over at Dean, but the other boy's expression is stony.

"Dean?"

"Fuck off, Castiel."

"Dean" Cas says gently, "we need to work on this project. I know that you are mad at me or whatever, but I need the grade."

"Castiel, it's not that," a flicker of emotion passes across Dean's face, but his expression turns cold again, "I've just had a rough week. Let's get to work."

They manage to work for the rest of the hour, but Dean is cold the entire time. He zones out often and Cas has to snap him back to attention. They don't get a lot done, and Castiel is in an even worse mood after the class is over. Dean storms out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings, leaving Cas alone in the classroom.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Novak?" Mr. Singer walks over to Cas, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm just having issues working with Dean."

"Would you like me to reassign you? I can have you work with someone else."

"No, it's okay Mr. Singer. I can work with him, he just gets on my nerves."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Thanks, Mr. Singer."

They stand awkwardly for a moment before Castiel gathers his things, nodding in thanks and walking out of the classroom. He walks to his next class, and the rest of the morning passes in a blur. Cas doesn't want to eat lunch, so he ends up sitting in the corner of the art room. His head falls onto his knees and his shoulders begin to shake. He hears the bell ring, but there's no way he can make it to his next class. There's no class in the art room his hour, so he decides to simply stay there. By the end of the class period he feels a little better and he manages to make it to Calc. He plans to stay quiet and is very glad when the teacher doesn't make him speak. When the bell rings Castiel hurries out of school.

He pulls his coat tightly around him as he walks home. His breath is white in the cold air. By the time Cas reaches his house, he's shivering and his teeth are chattering. He strips off his coat when he reaches the house, stepping carefully out of his boots. Neither Castiel's parents are home so Castiel quickly makes a cup of tea and goes up to his room. He shuts the door behind him, pulling his camera out of his bag. When he turns it on, the camera beeps. The camera is battery is almost dead and Castiel has to plug the camera into his computer. While it's charging, he opens a file of new pictures.

Over the last three weeks, the time it's been since he last uploaded them to the computer, he has taken over a thousand pictures. Castiel begins to look through the photos, deleting the ones that are obviously blurry. He's gone through just under half of them when he comes to a photo of Dean. Dean is standing in a group of students, laughing at some joke. Castiel didn't know Dean was in the photo when he took it, but a sense of melancholia falls over him when he sees the photo. Dean looks so happy, happier than Castiel has ever seen him.

For what seems like an hour, Castiel's finger hovers over the delete button. He doesn't want to seem creepy, having a picture of Dean on his computer. At the same time, the picture is so good that he can't bear to delete it. He assures himself that he's only keeping the photo due to its artistic quality, but he knows that that isn't entirely true. He doesn't want to lose the image of Dean being so happy.

For the next twelve hours, Castiel edits and deletes his photos. He only gets about half of them done, but then he realizes that it's four in the morning and he is still awake. He saves the photo he is working on, closing his laptop. He strips off his shirt and jeans, pulling on a new pair of boxers. Cas lays down in bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin. He rolls onto his side, curling into a ball. He lays like that for two hours, not falling asleep until moments before his alarm goes off. Groggily, he rolls out of bed. The morning sun streams in his window and Stella looks over at him from the top of his desk.

"Good morning," he says, patting her head gently.

Castiel grabs clean clothes from his dresser, heading to the bathroom. He strips out of his boxers, climbing into the shower. His hands fall on his bare hips, covering the barely healed lines that crisscross his skin. He sighs, tracing the numerous scars. He traces the oldest of them all, a perfect circle, and it brings back a painful memory.

"Fucking faggot."

His father's hand wraps around his throat, pushing him up against the wall. Castiel stands on his toes, barely able to breathe.

"Dad, please," Castiel begs.

"My son is a fucking faggot. And now he's gonna get what he deserves."

His father's fist connects with his jaw, hard. Castiel screams out in pain, but it doesn't deter his father. Again and again, his father's fist cracks into his face and Castiel can feel his cheek start to bleed. Finally, Castiel feels his father's hold on his neck weaken and he drops to the floor coughing.

"Dad," Castiel begs, his voice weak, "please. Please don't. Please, dad, please."

His words fade into incoherent mumbles as he begins to cry. His father's hand rests on his shoulder and Castiel tries to flinch away, but he can barely move.

"Maybe you'll enjoy this, you little faggot."

The rest of the memory is too painful, and Cas pushes it far away. That's something he can't bear to remember.

When the water starts to turn cold, Cas realizes that he's still standing in the shower. He wipes the tears from his eyes, only for them to be replaced in seconds. He turns off the water, drying his hair carefully and wrapping a towel around his waist. His mind in a fog, Cas returns to his room. He sits on the edge of his bed, body numb. Castiel realizes that there's no way he can make it to school today, and he lays back down. He can feel his breathing speed up, the beginning of a panic attack.

Shaking, Cas curls in on himself. He tries to count, but his mind won't focus. He reaches for his phone, barely able to turn it on. He tries to dial, but his fingers are shaking too badly. Finally, he's able to open his contacts and call the only person he can think of: Dean. The phone rings twice, then he's greeted by Dean voice.

"Dammit, Castiel. What do you need?"

"I-I. Dean. I ca-ca-ca-can't b-b-b-breathe. I'm having a-a-a panic attack. I need your he-he-he-help. Please."

"Castiel, I don't have time to deal with your crap."

With that, Dean hangs up the phone. Cas breaks into tears, dropping the phone onto the bed behind him. His breath comes in short, shallow gasps and Cas can feel his vision going dark. He tries to count again, and in this time it works. His breathing steadies and he can feel himself calming down. Half an hour later, he's almost back to normal. He lays in bed, exhausted. For the next few hours he doses, and when he has some energy is tries to sit up. Immediately, his vision goes blurry and he passes out.

When Cas wakes, he's curled up on his floor. He assumes that he slid off the bed when he passed out, but he doesn't want to pass out again. He pushes himself into a sitting position, waiting for his nausea to fade. When he can sit comfortably, he uses his arms to get back onto the bed. His head is swimming, but he manages to sit on the edge of the bed. He sits like that for a few minutes before he attempts to stand. Carefully, he stands up. His legs are steady but his head is swimming and he sits down again. After two more tries, Cas manages to stand and walk over to his desk. He sits down with a sigh, opening his laptop.

He pulls up his email, checking for any admissions news. He's about to click away from his inbox when he notices an email for Cornell. It's not the one he's looking for, but it notifies him that his application had been received. He smiles; happy that something had actually gone right. There's still no word on the scholarship, and Castiel swears that he was supposed to know by now. He figures there's nothing he can do so he goes back to editing photos. When the sun starts to go down Castiel closes his laptop, moving back to his bed.

He doesn't fall asleep for a long time, and when he does he's plagued with nightmares. It's the same memory, again and again. It always ends when his father leaves him, shaking and broken. Castiel doesn't sleep much that night, but when morning comes he realizes that he has to go to school. He puts himself through the motions of getting ready, then walks out the door. It's warmer today, so he isn't cold when he reaches the school. Castiel has nowhere else to go so he walks straight to physics. Cas is the first one there, since class doesn't start for another twenty minutes. He takes out his book and starts to read. He hasn't read for more than five minutes when he feels a presence in front of him.

"Castiel?"

"Huh?"

He looks up, meeting the bright green eyes of Dean Winchester. Immediately, he wants to yell at the other boy, but he stays quiet.

"Listen, Cas."

"Don't call me that," Castiel snaps.

"I-Castiel, I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have hung up like that."

"No, you shouldn't have, Dean. I really needed you last night, and you just hung up. So I'm sorry, but go away. Please."

Castiel's voice fades to a near whisper, and he looks down at his book.

"Castiel…I'm sorry. I-"

"Dean, just go away."

Dean stops, blinking slowly before turning away. He moves to a seat on the opposite side of the room and an uncomfortable silence falls between them. Thankfully, the other students start to trickle in and the classroom fills with noise. They aren't working on their group projects today, and Castiel is grateful that he doesn't have to face Dean. Cas doesn't speak during physics or English, and when lunch comes he hurries to the art room. There, he sits quietly.

He barely looks up when someone enters the room, assuming that it's the teacher. Because of this, he's surprised when someone sinks to the floor next to him.

"Cas?"

Castiel turns his head, looking over at Dean. The other boy is seated a couple feet from Cas, his knees drawn close to his chest.

"What? I told you to go away."

Cas knows it's harsh, but he doesn't care.

"I feel bad. I really fucked up, and I’m sorry."

"Dean," Cas says, his voice breaking, "I don't know if you can. You really screwed up."

"Cas, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh, so that's why you hung up on me when I was having a fucking panic attack?"

"Cas," Dean looks taken aback, "I just…I didn't know what to do, and it made me feel helpless, and I didn't think, and I hung up, and Jesus I’m so stupid."

"Literally just talking to someone would have helped," Castiel looks down, eyes filling with tears.

"Cas, I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it. If the only reason you came in here was to apologize, then you did and you can leave."

When Dean makes no move to leave, Cas stands up and hurries toward the door. Before he makes it more than two steps, Dean's hand is on his wrist. The gentle touch freezes Cas in place, and he stiffens. Dean steps in front of Cas, still holding his wrist.

"Cas. You can't just run away. I'm trying to make it up to you, I just don't know how."

"Dean, please let go of me."

Castiel notices that Dean is calling him Cas, how could he not, but he’s simply too tired to care. Besides, there’s something comforting about the nickname. Castiel voice is rough, on the edge of tears. He takes a step back from Dean, but the other boy just follows him.

"Castiel, I can't do that. I can just let you go running off.

"Why not, Dean? I don't see why what I do affects you."

"Cas," Dean's voice breaks and he bows his head, "I can't do this. This can't keep happening. I finally get the nerve to talk to you, then I fuck things up and make you mad. I can't do it."

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I fucked up. Right when we first met, when Mr. Singer wanted us to work together, I'd been trying to get the nerve to talk to you for so long, and then I had this perfect excuse to talk to you. I was so happy, and then you helped me understand, but I was rude and…" he trails off.

"Dean," Cas says quietly, "you weren't that bad. I was rude, too."

"That wasn't it though. When I found out about the project we were supposed to do, it was right after my dad kicked me out,” Cas looks up in surprise but doesn’t say anything, “and I really needed someone to talk to, but then I snapped at you and made you mad. Then we worked at the library and it was great, and I fucked it up again. I grabbed you and saw the bruise and I couldn't believe that you were hurt and I got mad, not at you, but at whoever hurt you, and I you ran off, and I felt so bad. I gave you a ride, and things were better but I forgot to go to the library because I had some date with a stupid girl, and I felt so bad. I got your number from Anna and I asked you to my house, and I waited at home all weekend, praying, desperately hoping that you'd come. I was so terrified that you'd come and at the same time I was so excited. And you didn't come and I thought that I'd done something wrong. I saw you walking to school and I wanted so bad to stop and get you, but I was scared you wouldn't and I couldn't.

"When we met at the library, and I was so confused, and I was angry at myself, and then I hurt you and I felt so damn bad, Cas. I wanted to make things right, and I called you Cas on accident and it only made you more mad and I felt so bad. Then I didn't see you for almost a month and, Cas, I was so scared that something had happened. I was scared that you were sick, or dead."

Cas has stayed quiet, but now he speaks for the first time, "You really though that? You were worried about me?"

"Cas, I didn't come to your house to ask about some damn science project. I wanted to make sure you were okay, but then I saw you and you looked so broken and I couldn't tell you that. So I lied, but then you passed out and I was so scared and I thought you were dead. So I took care of you, but then I realized that I was actually in your house and it hit me really hard. I got scared, and I couldn't stay so I left. Then I felt so bad, so guilty. When you came back, I was so happy and then I fucked up again, and I was so mad at myself. I couldn't even bring myself to talk to you, I thought you'd be mad at me.

"Dean…" Cas starts, but he doesn't finish.

"Cas, please, let me finish. Then I got beat up, and rather than being mad at me like you had every right to be, you were so nice and I couldn't believe it. Then you called me and you needed me and I fucking hung up. After all of the things I'd done to fuck things up, you needed me and I couldn't do that. I hung up, and you were having a panic attack and I felt so damn guilty. Then today, I tried to apologize, and you were mad, not that you didn't have a reason, I mean, I really screwed up. But I felt so bad and I had to apologize and now we're here. I really fucked this all up. I don't know what I'm feeling and I'm so confused."

 

"Cas, I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I really fucked things up, and you've never been anything but nice to me. If you want me to walk out of your life right now and never come back, I will. But I had to at least try to apologize."

Cas is quiet for a long time, and he can see Dean becoming even more unsure of himself.

"Dean, why? Why did you do all this?"

“I just had to say, do something. Anything.”

Cas takes a step back, and Dean lets him go. Dean stands with his hands at his sides, looking down at the ground. Cas sinks to the ground, curling into a ball. The tears that he's been holding back since Dean walked in begin to fall.

"Um," Dean says hesitantly, "do you want me to leave?"

"I don't know…I," Cas pauses, the tears falling faster. After a long pause, he finishes his sentence, "No. Stay here, please."

"Are you serious? You really want me to stay?"

"I think so. At least for now."

Dean walks over to Cas, sitting quietly next to him.

"Is this okay? I don't want to screw this up."

"Yeah," Cas says, laying his head on Dean's shoulder, "I think so."

They sit like that for a long time, but eventually Cas's tears stop.

"Dean, can I ask you a question?"

"Uh, yeah. Of course, Cas. I mean, Castiel."

"Dean, you can call me Cas."

"Okay," Dean hesitates, "Cas."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me? Why all of this?"


	6. Chapter 6

"I don't know, Cas," he buries his face in his hands, pulling away from Cas, "The first day of junior year, I guess."

"What?" Cas says, the confusion evident in his voice.

"The first time I saw you, it was the first day of junior year," Dean takes a deep breath, "You were this kid with the messiest hair, and you were wearing this dark green shirt and you had your camera in your hand. The leaves were starting to turn, and you were laying underneath a tree in the commons area, looking up at the sky. You just looked like you were so calm and you looked like the sort of person who had his life together. I wanted to know your secrets. Then I just kept seeing you and I kept wanting to get to know you, but I had no idea how."

Cas knows exactly the moment Dean is referring to. The night before, his father had beaten him up, but not where it would show. He'd escaped the house almost two hours before school started, so he had been laying in the commons. The weather was still freakishly warm, so he wasn't even wearing a jacket. He'd spent almost an hour there, watching the sky and the trees. That had been the first time Cas ever saw Dean.

Dean had been wearing a faded leather jacket and blue jeans. His hair was mussed, as though he had just rolled out of bed. He was carrying a faded canvas bag, the kind you'd see at a military surplus store. Trailing behind him was a gangly freshman with shaggy brown hair. Dean was leading him toward the freshman hallway and it had made Cas smile.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," Dean quickly apologizes, "I know that it's weird. I'm sorry. I'm screwing this up."  
"No, really. I don't think it's weird. I remember seeing you that day. You were taking your little brother to the freshman hallway."

"You remember that day?"

"Yeah."

They fall silent, sitting comfortably together. Cas lays his head on Dean's shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything. For not giving up on me, for being honest, for doing this."

"This?"

"Being nice to me, a complete mess who's sobbing in the corner of the art room."

Dean wraps his arms around Cas, pulling him toward his chest. Cas curls into Dean, his sobs returning.

"Shhh, Cas. Don't cry. It's alright," Dean says, tracing small circles on Cas's back.

They stay like that until the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. Cas sits up slowly, wiping the tears from his eyes. Dean shifts, standing up. He offers his hand to Cas, pulling him to his feet.

"Thanks, Dean."

"Anytime, Cas," Dean pauses, "Hey, I could really use a tutor. Can we go to the library?"

"Yeah. That sounds good."

"Come on. I'll give you a ride."

They walk out of the art room together, the halls mostly empty. The parking lot is still full of students and they draw a few strange looks, but Dean simply shoots them a smile and they look away. Cas looks down at his feet.

"Ignore them. Come on."

"Dean, are you sure you don't mind? I can walk."

"Cas, I'm sure."

They get into the car, Dean reaching over to turn on the heat. Rather than turning right toward the library, Dean pulls left out of the parking lot.

"Dean, where are we going?"

"Café. I need some caffeine or there is no way I can study."

They ride the rest of the way to the café in silence, Dean tuning the radio to a classic rock to drown out the silence. When the reach the café, Cas offers to stay in the car and wait for Dean, but Dean won't let him.

"No way. I'll get you a drink, come on," he says, walking to the passenger side of the car.  
Dean takes his hand, pulling him out of the car and leading him into the café. When they reach the counter, Dean hesitates before letting go of Cas's hand. Once they order they stand together by the counter, waiting for their drinks.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to stay here for a while? We could get a table, study here?"

"Um, sure," Cas stammers, "That would be great."

"Wonderful. Find us a table, I'll get the drinks?"

"Alright."

Cas wanders to the back of the coffee shop, setting his back down on a table. He sits down on the couch, pulling his laptop out of his bag. He opens the computer, connecting to the Wi-Fi and opening his email. When his inbox loads, he notices an email from the University of Michigan. Taking a deep breath, he hovers his mouse over subject line. Bracing himself for the news, he opens the email.

To: castiel.j.novak@gmail.com  
From: dean.admissions@umich.edu  
Subject: Merit Scholarship  
Castiel Novak:  
It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been selected for our full ride scholarship here at the University of Michigan. Due to the fact that you have already been accepted to our early acceptance program, we await your decision. Please feel free to contact us with any questions at 1.575.5938 or email us at admissions.help@umich.edu.  
Sincerely,  
Dean of Admissions, Jennifer Artly

Castiel is still staring at the computer screen in shock when Dean arrives with their drinks.

"Cas? Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, um. I just, well, look."

Cas turns his computer around, showing it to Dean. His eyes scan the screen, reading the email.

"Cas, that's amazing! I can't believe it!"

Dean sets their drinks on the table, walking around to Cas. Dean pulls him up, wrapping his arms tightly around Cas.

"I can't believe you got a full ride scholarship. And to the University of Michigan!"

Cas pulls away, sitting back down on the couch. Dean takes a seat next to him, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

"I'm just in shock. I thought that there was no way I'd get the scholarship, and I was supposed to find out by about a week ago."

"Cas, you're like the smartest person I know. There's no way they wouldn't give you the scholarship."

"I'm really not, but thanks."

"Hey, it's true. Come on, let's use that brain of yours to get my grades up."

"Alright, now that might require some caffeine."

Cas takes his coffee, sipping the hot liquid. Once he drinks some of his coffee, he turns to Dean.

"So, what's your worst grade?"

"English. I just don't understand To Kill a Mockingbird."

"Totally understandable. What can I do to help?"

"Can you explain some of the symbolism to me? I just don't get it."

"Sure. So we'll start with the most basic. Do you understand the symbolism of the mockingbird?"

"No, I mean, I get that it is important, but I don't really get why."

"Alright," Cas says, pulling the book out of his bag, "I think I can help. Why can't Scout and Jem shoot mockingbirds in the story?"

"The mockingbirds don't do anything wrong, so nothing they don't deserve to have anything bad happen to them."

"Exactly. So what characters in the story haven't done anything wrong?"

For the next few hours, they study. By the end, they've each had three cups of coffee and cookies. Dean finally understands Calc, and they have their science project done. Now, they're sitting next to each other on the couch, shoulders brushing together. It's almost ten by the time they are finished with all their work, and it's dark out.

"Do you need a ride home?" Dean asks.

"Um, sure. That would be great."

They pack up their things, and Dean leaves a tip on the table. When the reach the car, Dean gets in before Cas, reaching over to unlock the door. Cas slides into the car, setting his bag on his lap.

"Where am I going?"

"Um, turn left here."  
Cas directs Dean toward his house, and Dean pulls up to the driveway. Cas steps out of the Impala, smiling at Dean.

"Thank you. Really."

"It's been fun, Cas. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Dean."

Cas walks up to the front door, listening to the Dean's car pull away. He prays that his dad didn't see Dean, but as soon as he walks in the front door he knows there's no hope.

"Who was that," his dad slurs, stumbling over to Cas.

"A friend. We were studying."

"Studying, is that what you call it?"

"No, honestly. We were at a café studying."

"Eh, fuck off. I don't give a damn what you were doing with your faggot friend."

Cas turns away from his dad, walking up the stairs. He's grateful when his dad doesn't follow, but he locks his door behind him anyway. He sits on the edge of the bed, opening his laptop again. He pulls up his email, opening the email from the University of Michigan.

To: dean.admissions@umich.edu   
From: castiel.j.novak@gmail.com  
Dean Jennifer Artly:  
I am thrilled to have been accepted to your scholarship program. I do plan on attending the University of Michigan for the upcoming fall semester, and I would be pleased to accept your generous scholarship.  
Sincerely,  
Castiel Novak

Cas reads over the email once more, checking for spelling errors. Seeing none, he sends the email. He closes his email, opening a folder full of new photos. For the rest of the night, he edits photos and plays with Stella. It's nearly midnight by the time he goes to bed, and he can barely keep his eyes open. When he actually lays down in bed, he can't fall asleep and lays awake for another two hours.

The sun is streaming through Cas's window when his alarm goes off, and he manages to drag himself out of bed. He takes his time getting ready, actually feeling confident for once. By the time Cas is ready it's almost time for him to leave for school. He grabs his bag, sneaking past his parents' room. His father was screaming late into the night, and Cas just wants to get out of the house without a conflict. The weather is cold again, so Cas has to pull his coat tightly around him. He walks quickly and isn't too cold when he reaches the school.

After his morning classes, Cas walks to the commons area. However, when he exits the school he realizes that it's too cold to stay outside. Instead, he makes his way to the theater. There, he sits in the back row of seats, looking through the photos on his camera. The lunch period passes quickly, and Cas wishes he has more time before his afternoon classes. His afternoon classes drag by, and he's utterly exhausted when the last bell rings. Cas is getting his books from his locker when he's startled by a presence next to him.

"Cas?"

"Dean?"

"I looked for you during lunch, where were you?"

"I was in the theater. It's too cold to eat outside now."

"Oh. That makes sense. Anyway, I was going to ask whether you wanted to go to the library to study again, I could use someone to keep me motivated."

"Sure, yeah. That sounds good."

"Cool. Do you want a ride?"

"Yeah, that would be great."

They walk out of the school together, making their way to the Impala. When they reach the library, Dean and Cas both get their bags. They take a seat at one of the tables, getting out all of their things. They fall into comfortable silence, both working on their homework alone. Occasionally one of them will ask the other a question, but they always end up falling silent again. Cas finds himself glancing up at Dean every few minutes, observing the other boy's facial expressions. Cas finds himself noticing small things about Dean, like how he bites his lip when he is focusing. Once, Dean catches Cas looking at him and Cas blushes, glancing back down at his books. They keep studying, mostly silent for another few minutes.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you help me with college applications? I don't really know how to start…"

"Yeah, sure. Where are you thinking about applying to?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. I had thought about Michigan State University or maybe University of Wisconsin, but I don't really know."

"Those are both great choices. I think you'd really like Madison, but I don't know. What do you want to major in?"

"Maybe engineering? I feel like that's one of the things I actually understand."

"That's really cool, Dean. I think you'd make a good engineer."

"Thanks," Dean blushes, "My dad wanted me to stay here and work in the garage with him, but I can't imagine staying here for the rest of my life."

"I totally understand that. Have you thought about University of Michigan?"

"No, I hadn't really thought about it, but I haven't really thought all that much about college."

"You should look into their engineering program. I think it's really great. There's also the option of Florida State, I think they have a good program."

"Do I still have a chance of getting into any of those schools?"

"Of course. You still have time to retake the SAT if you need to, plus you have a couple months for applications."

"You think I can do it?" Dean looks over at Cas uncertainly.

"Definitely. It won't be easy, but you can do it."

For the next hour or so, they talk about college. By the time they're done, they have a plan. They decide that Dean should retake the SAT in early December, which gives him a month and a half to prepare. Dean agrees to look into engineering programs, and Cas agrees to help him. As they pack up their things, Dean grabs Cas's hand.

"Hey, I really appreciate this."

Doing his best not to flinch away from the touch, Cas replies, "It's not a problem. Really."  
"Still, you're taking time out of your day to help me, and for no reason. Not many people would do that."

"I guess I'm not most people then," Cas says, smiling.

"You definitely aren't."

Dean drops Cas off at his house, waving goodbye as Cas unlocks the door. Neither of his parents are home, despite the fact that it's nearly seven. Cas re-heats leftovers from the night before, eating them at the dinner table before hurrying to his room. Cas is exhausted and he falls asleep soon after he finishes his homework. He wakes the next morning to the blaring of his alarm, pounding the snooze button.

Eventually, Cas manages to pull himself out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom, showering quickly. Cas gets ready for school in a flash, hoping to get there early. Cas leaves the house almost an hour before classes start, so when he reaches the school he wanders blindly through the halls. He's making his way down the music hallway when he hears the faint melody of one of his favorite songs coming from one of the practice rooms. He follows the music until he ends up at the far end of the music hallway, looking in at a sandy-haired figure bent over a guitar. It takes him a moment to recognize Dean, but when he does he lets out an audible gasp.

Dean freezes, stiffening. He sits up, looking out at Cas. His gaze, steely at first, softens when he sees Cas. He stands up, setting the guitar gently in its case. Dean unlocks the door, inviting Castiel in.

"Hey," Cas says, smiling awkwardly.

"Hey," Dean replies.

After fumbling for a moment, Cas says, "I didn't know you played. I'm sorry, I was just walking around, and I heard you playing – not that I knew it was you – and I wanted to know who it was. I'm sorry if that's weird."

"Not many people do," Dean says, taking a seat on the piano bench, "And don't worry. I'm totally fine with it."

"It's really cool, and you're really good."

"Thanks. I'm not the best singer, but I love to play."

"It's amazing. I've always wanted to learn to play."

"Maybe I could teach you," Dean says hesitantly.

"You'd be willing to do that?"

"It's the least I can do. You've helped me so much."

"I'd really like that, Dean," Cas says, blushing.

"I'd be happy to teach you."

"Thanks," Cas says, "I should let you get back to playing."

"You can stay, if you want," Dean says quietly.

Cas blushes even more, but he takes a seat on the floor, watching as Dean picks up the guitar. Dean begins to strum, playing the notes to a melody Cas can't quite name. Dean plays through the whole song, starting to sing softly to himself about half way through. Instantly, Cas recognizes the words to the song, Pompeii by Bastille. He smiles, listening as Dean gains confidence and begins to sing louder. When the songs ends, Cas applauds softly.

"You're really good, Dean."

"Thanks, Cas."

For the next half hour, they sit in the practice room. Dean plays for Cas, and when Cas knows the song he sings along. When the bell rings, Dean packs up his guitar and they walk to Physics together. The rest of the days flies by, and Cas and Dean spend the afternoon at the library. Cas helps Dean study for the SAT and write college application essays. The afternoon flies by and it's nearly eight by the time the pack up their things.

Over the next two weeks, Cas and Dean spend more and more time together. They eat lunch in the theater together, spend their evenings at the library, and spend their weekends at cafés. Slowly, they learn more about each other, like the fact that Dean is a sucker for chocolate chip cookies or that Cas gets very hyper after his second cup of coffee. A week before Thanksgiving break, Dean invites Cas to on a college tour at the University of Wisconsin.

"Really? You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind. I don't want to go alone, but I can't imagine going with my family."

"I, uh, sure. I'd be willing to go with you."

"I'd really like that. I was thinking that we could take the train, since it's only a couple hours. If that's okay with you, of course."

"That'd be fine. When did you want to go?"

"Well, they do tours every Friday, so I was thinking either this week or next. They both work for me, but I didn't know what would work for you. We’d have to leave Thursday night.”

"I could do either one. I think it's supposed to be warmer this weekend, so if you want to go then…" Cas trails off.

"That works for me. When I checked, it seemed like we could just sign up for the tour then, so we don't have to worry about that. Train tickets are a bit expensive, but I don’t mind paying."

"That sounds wonderful. Do we need to get tickets now, or?"

"I can reserve them tonight, then we can pick them up Thursday, if that works."

"Of course. If you don't mind doing that, that would be amazing.

"It's not a problem, Cas."

"Thanks."

"Not a problem."

Dean and Cas finalize their plans and agree on a time to leave. As Cas waits for Thursday to arrive the week seems to drag on. Late Thursday, Dean pulls up to Cas's house. Cas slides into the Impala and Dean hands him a cup of coffee. Cas thanks him and they ride in silence to the train station, sipping quietly at their coffee. When they arrive at the train station, both boys grab their bags and walk to the ticket window. As they buy their tickets, the cashier gives them a strange look that Cas can't quite place.

They sit next to each other on a bench, waiting for the train to arrive. Only minutes later, a voice blares over the loudspeaker, announcing the arrival of their train. Dean and Cas board the train, sitting next to each other on wide bench seat. As the train starts to move Cas begins to doze off, laying his head on Dean's shoulder. They both sleep for most of the ride, only changing stations when necessary. When the train begins to slow before their last stop, Dean shakes Cas awake.

"Cas, wake up."

"Mmmmm," Cas groans.

"Cas, we're in Madison. Wake up."

"Don't wanna, Dean," Cas buries his head on Dean's shoulder, curling into a ball.

"Caaaaas. Come on. I wanna tour University of Wisconsin," Dean is bouncing up and down on the train seat.

"Fine. But you have to buy me coffee."


End file.
